


Grieving the Living

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Noir, Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Injury, Detective Noir, Disabled FalseSymmetry, Disabled GoodTimesWithScar, Eventual Smut, F/F, Feminist Themes, Femme Fatale ZombieCleo, Film Noir, First Time, Gen, Genre-Typical Violence, Girl Friday Stressmonster101, Hermit Friendships, Heroic Seductress ZombieCleo, Human Basil (Hermitcraft RPF), Human Hybrid Hermits, Human Jellie (Hermitcraft RPF), Human Matilda (Hermitcraft RPF), Human Mob Hermits, Human Pamela (Hermitcraft RPF), Human Professor Beak (Hermitcraft RPF), Human Trafficking, Human Tugger (Hermitcraft RPF), LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Madam ZombieCleo, Minor Character Death, Moral Ambiguity, Mystery, No beta we die like Hermits, Non-Binary Iskall85, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Ableism, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Period-Typical Transphobia, Post-World War II, Private Investigator FalseSymmetry, Prostitution, The Tags Are Still Shorter Than The Work I'm Okay, mature themes, period-typical misogyny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28573908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: Nashville, 1949The aftershocks of World War II are still shaking the world. When Scar Times approaches Private Investigator False Symmetry with the case of his missing sister Jellie, she's reluctant to take it. However, money is hard to come by these days, so she decides to give it a shot. Her investigation leads her from an adult club in a dark alley all the way up the ranks of society to uncover a huge scandal involving the mayor, Keralis, and the captain of the police force, Xisuma Void, and further down into a dark hole.When family members and acquaintances all seem to be involved in a dark scheme that will endanger everyone they love, it's up to False, Cleo, Xisuma, Stress and their trusted friends to take down a larger evil than they have ever seen before. And who knows, they might find some comfort in each other along the way.
Relationships: Arek Lisowski | Keralis/Xisumavoid (Video Blogging RPF), Basil/Jellie (Hermitcraft RPF), FalseSymmetry & StressMonster101, Falsesymmetry/ZombieCleo, Joe Hills & ZombieCleo, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 102
Kudos: 48





	1. One: Night and the City

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 2021!
> 
> This has been a long time in the making; I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Content warning: gun violence, minor character death (No Hermits die), ableism, homophobia, misogyny, sexism, transphobia (It's what I get for deciding to write a fic with a female protagonist set in the 1940s...)

_ Nashville, Tennessee -- the autumn of 1949 _

The wind howled as a lone young woman fought against it, making her way along the abandoned streets. Five A.M. was not a common time for people to be outside these days, with most choosing instead to wait until the sun rose to make their appearance. The woman's blonde hair sought some sort of protection in a fedora which she held in place with a gloved hand, though it did little to guard her face against the unforgiving weather. With a deep sigh, the woman unlocked the front door of a narrow office building shared by multiple businesses, continuing through the door nearest to the entrance, which was marked  _ F. Symmetry, Private Investigator _ . Inside, she hung her coat on the rack and flung her hat onto a side table, along with her scarf and gloves. Taking a seat behind her large mahogany desk, she grabbed a bottle from the cabinet behind her and poured herself a decent glass of whiskey. 

Just as she was about to take her first sip, a clear, chastising voice commented: "False, it's not even light out yet."

False looked up at the doorway, where a brunette was leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of her chest. Stress, her assistant, walked in and snatched the tumbler out of her hand and replaced it with a thermos of what smelled like coffee.

"Let me have my one pleasure in life, would you?" False sighed. Stress shook her head, taking a seat at her designated corner of False's desk. 

"You're going to drink yourself to death, one of these days," she muttered. "Anyway. Any new leads on the cheating fiancé?" False groaned, producing the file from her briefcase. She was going to need a lot more coffee for this.

\--

False was a capable private investigator, but a chronically underestimated one. People didn't like contracting women for important cases, instead choosing to ask her male competitors for their services instead. So, she was stuck with distrustful spouses, parents who were worried their daughters weren't doing what they said they were doing, or other minor cases. Besides being mind-numbingly boring, these kinds of cases also barely helped her pay for the rent, and Stress' salary. False knew Stress depended on this assistant's position to support her younger siblings, and she wanted to do everything she could to prevent the brunette from having to go back into prostitution to afford her siblings' education. The funds were getting tighter and tighter, though, and False was severely worried about how she would be affording everything next month. Still, what she needed to focus on right now, were her active cases, no matter how boring they might be. Boring made dollars. So, she got to work.

\--

As the day went on, no new clients appeared, much to False's chagrin. In fact, the only person who  _ did  _ stop by was her landlord, an older veteran who went by TFC, to remind her she still owed him last month's rent. Gritting her teeth, False had handed him everything in her wallet, and promised him she'd pay the rest once she had closed her active cases. TFC had nodded, dropped a tin of food on her desk, and let her and Stress be. 

"How are you going to afford food now?" Stress wondered out loud.

"I'll be fine," False replied. "Don't worry about me." She knew it was a valid question, but to be honest, she didn't have an answer to it. She would survive, somehow.

\--

Just as False was about to send Stress home for the night, a knock sounded at the door. Frowning, Stress pulled it open to reveal a young man in a wheelchair. The suit he was wearing was obviously tailor-made, but the colours were muted. Every breath seemed to be a struggle. He offered her a kind, lopsided smile.

"Can we 'elp you, luv?" Stress asked in her telltale accent. Her parents had been immigrants from the south of England, who came to America as young children after the Great War. 

"You're F. Symmetry?" he asked. 

"That would be me," False replied, getting up from behind her desk to walk over to him. "This is my assistant, Stress." The man nodded at her and removed his hat as he entered the small office.

"Scar Times. I seek your help." 

"With what?" False asked. "Cheating sweetheart? Employee called in sick?" Scar shook his head.

"My sister is missing. A month, now." What? Missing people weren't exactly False's type of case. 

"I suggest you contact the police then, and stop wasting my time." 

"You think the police take the time to listen to someone like me? Like  _ us _ ?" Scar protested, nodding at the brace around False's left wrist, which connected to her elbow. She quickly shoved her arm behind her back. "Sorry," Scar mumbled. Sighing, he added: "Please. I'm begging you. I'll pay you double, just...please take the case." False perked up at the offer. Double pay would allow her to pay off her debt and buy some actual fruit for the first time in months. 

"Fine," she decided. She pulled the chair reserved for clients out of the way and motioned for Scar to come on in. He rolled up to her desk and False and Stress both sat down, with Stress preparing to write down anything important. "Tell me about your sister."

"Her name is Jeannie, but we all call her Jellie. She's just turned nineteen. Pale complexion, hair so blonde it's almost ashen, and she always wears a red beret. Here," Scar explained, handing False a photo of himself and a young woman -- that had to be Jellie. False had to admit, she looked stunning. A slim, petite figure in a form-fitting dress, although her eyes looked saddened.

"Has anyone been looking for her yet? Your parents, perhaps?" False asked. Leads from the direct surroundings of a subject could be vital to finding the truth. Scar, however, shook his head.

"Our mother died when Jellie was two, and our father has been deployed to Korea for four months now. It's just me looking after her, and as you might guess, I can't get very far." False nodded solemnly. So many had lost loved ones to the recent wars, be it those killed in action or the ones who were now deployed throughout the world to build it back up again.

"Any leads?" Stress asked quietly. "Places she frequents, a gentleman friend?" 

"As far as I know, she's not stepping out with anyone, though there's only so much a girl tells her brother," Scar replied, chuckling. "She attends Ward-Belmont College, on Adelicia Acklen's estate. I know some of her friends are in Pembroke Hall." False knew of the school, it was a widely-respected ladies' seminary. "She also works as the assistant for the grocer down the street from our home."

"Then that's where I'll start, first thing tomorrow," False decided. Scar smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, Mrs Symmetry." He laid a sealed envelope on the desk. "The down payment, if you will."

"It's, uh...Miss." False nodded at Stress to take the money and deposit it in the safe. "How can I reach you, Mister Times?" 

"My phone number and address are in the envelope." Scar reached into his pocket and pulled out a contact card, handing it over as well. "But just in case, have this too. You can keep the photo if you'd like." False gazed down at the card. It read:  _ Scar Times, Society for Crippled Children: Manager of Camp Cheerful Tennessee.  _ With a nod, Scar left the office.

\--

That night, as she settled down in her small kitchen with a plate of the casserole TFC had brought by that afternoon, False couldn't help but take the photo of Scar and Jellie out of her briefcase and stare at it. Jellie truly was a beautiful young woman. For some reason, she had an awful feeling about whatever she was going to uncover. False really, really hoped Jellie was in some lucky bastard's bed somewhere, but...her instinct told her otherwise. All she could do was pray she wasn't searching for a dead body.

\--

In the morning, after a broken night's sleep, False pulled a dress out of her closet. Sure, she preferred suits, which usually got her judgemental looks from passersby no matter what she did, but if she was going to get anything done at the College, she needed to look like a woman. Sighing, she threw it on. Lipstick and mascara completed her look. The women at Ward-Belmont would probably be wearing more and more neatly-applied make-up products than she was, but that was okay. A private investigator's most vital skill was making themself invisible. 

\--

At Ward-Belmont, a guard checked her ID, before letting her through. False hadn’t made an appointment with anyone, something she was regretting now. She didn’t exactly have the legal force a police detective would have. Putting on a friendly smile, she approached a young woman, probably not much older than Jellie.

“Excuse me, Miss, would you happen to know where Pembroke Hall is?” The girl raised an eyebrow at False’s accent. ‘ _ Yes!’  _ False wanted to yell, ‘ _ I fled here from England, okay? _ ’ Instead, she just smiled at her.

“Just down the pathway, over on your left there, ma’am,” a voice announced behind her. False spun around to face a girl in a white day dress with a small dolphin-shaped brooch holding her scarf together. “Forgive me for buttin’ in, but I’m headin’ over there now if you’d like to join me?” False nodded at the girl.

“Thank you, miss?” she asked out of courtesy.

“Theresa Mossner, but everyone calls me Tugger, ma’am.” 

“I’m False,” False replied. Tugger smiled. 

“Might I ask why you’re headin’ on over to Pembroke? Most meetings take place in other buildin’s, you know.” There was something comforting about Tugger’s thick Tennessee accent, though False could hear a different tone to her voice than that of most locals. Foreign parents, maybe?

“I’m looking for a missing young lady,” False replied. She might as well be honest. “She’s the sister of one of my friends: Jeannie Times, goes by Jellie? Do you happen to know her?” Tugger’s face scrunched up for a moment while she thought. 

“Oh!” she called out. “She’s the girl with the red ribbons, and the brother in the wheelchair, yes?” False nodded. Was this case going to be easier than she had originally anticipated? “I don’t know her very well personally, but I  _ could  _ introduce you to some of her friends?”

“That’d be lovely, thank you very much.” A lead was a lead, and who knew, maybe Jellie’s friends would know something she hadn’t told Scar? False let Tugger guide her into Pembroke Hall, and towards a group of giggling girls.

\--

"Useless," False muttered to herself as she left the college grounds, nodding at the guard, who tipped his hat at her. None of the girls had been able to tell her anything; they all thought Jellie had been staying with Scar for a while, and no-one had realised she hadn't been attending her classes. Sighing, False opened her notebook, crossing  _ Ward-Belmont  _ off of her list of locations to investigate. Next up, the grocer. 

It was but a short bus ride to the small corner store Scar had told False and Stress about. A hand-painted sign read:  _ I. Jevin and Sons _ . Just as False was about to enter the store, a young man pushed ahead of her, nearly causing her to lose her balance.

"Oh, 'scuse me, ma'am!" he exclaimed, seemingly not having seen her at all.

"Beak! You pesky boy!" A blond man in a red sweater ran up to False. "Please accept my apologies on behalf of my clumsy son, Miss," he told her. "May I offer you some eggs?"

"...eggs?" was all False could stammer.

"Grian's grain-fed chicks lay the best eggs in all of Tennessee!" the man replied. He tipped his flat cap at False. "Grian Fulton, the Poultry Man, and my son, Beak. Call me Grian."

" _ Professor  _ Beak, pa!" Beak replied, grinning at False. She smiled.

"False Symmetry. Pleasure to meet you, Grian." Grian nodded, stepping in front of her to open the door for her, and the trio entered the grocer’s. A man stood behind the counter, dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks. He greeted Grian and Beak before approaching False.

“Can I help you, Miss?” False reached into her purse, pulling out a business card and handing it to the grocer.

“Hopefully, yes. My name is False Symmetry, investigator. I’m looking for the whereabouts of Jeannie Times. I’m told she works for you?”

“Isaac Jevin. I go by Jevin.” He accepted the card and inspected it. “I ain’t ever seen a female investigator before.”

“There’s a first for everything,” False replied. If she had a dime for every time someone mentioned her gender, she wouldn’t need to work anymore. “May I ask, when’s the last time you saw her?”

“About four or five weeks ago. I still owe her a week’s pay, even. Just disappeared without a trace, didn’t even call in sick or nothing.” Jevin sighed. “It’s a shame; she’s a great employee. What happened, ran off with a boyfriend?” False shook her head. She didn’t know much about Jellie yet, but she didn’t seem like the type of girl to have a secret lover. Then again… Her own youth had told her nothing ever was as it seemed. 

“I don’t think so, sir.” Just as False wanted to continue pressing him for information, an older woman entered the store. There was an air of money about her.

“Wish I could help you, Miss Symmetry, but if you’ll excuse me,” Jevin began, mumbling the rest of his excuse as he walked up to the newest customer. Sighing, False grabbed an apple from a basket and left a few coins on the counter, muttering her goodbyes to the people present. She wiped the apple on her skirt and bit down. At least she’d gotten lunch out of the situation. Rounding a corner, she stepped off of the sidewalk to lean against a tree. Now what? She took another bite and closed her eyes, taking a moment to savour the flavour of the crisp fruit. 

“Um.” Someone cleared their throat next to her. “Miss Symmetry?” False opened her eyes again. It was Beak --  _ Professor  _ Beak -- who was standing in front of her, a small carton in his hands. “The eggs, ma’am. Please, my father wants you to have them, for your trouble.” Blushing, he handed her four fresh eggs. 

“Thank you,” False replied. It was kind of them. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re…” Beak hesitated.

“Yes?” 

“You’re looking for Jellie?” False nodded, taking another bite of her apple. “Uh. You didn’t hear this from me, but...you might want to check Fourth Avenue.” False nearly choked on her bite. 

“The Men’s Quarter?” she asked incredulously. “You’re telling me I should go ask a bunch of  _ prostitutes  _ if they’ve seen a missing girl?” Beak sighed.

“She adores the women there. She’s been trying to become one, and they kept telling her she was too young and naive, but she still hangs out there at night, after her brother has gone to bed.” Oh, bloody Hell.

“Do you know which house exactly?” Beak shook his head.

“I just know it’s in an alleyway, between two hotels, and that it’s not just women working there.” False took out her notebook and wrote everything down.

“Thank you, Beak, you’ve been a great help. You should hurry on back to your father, though.” Smiling, Beak nodded. As he ran off back towards the grocer’s, he called out: “It’s  _ Professor  _ Beak!” False chuckled and gazed down at her notes. She’d better make her way home, rest up, for it seemed she had a long night ahead of her.

\--

False wasn't going to lie: she felt uncomfortable. It wasn't the fact that she was looking for a brothel, no. She had grown up in more dangerous neighbourhoods than a red light district. What she was much more concerned about, was how she was going to approach the workers. Sure, Scar's deposit had given her some breathing space, but it wasn't like she had cash to spare, and prostitutes weren't exactly known to talk without a reward -- not that False could blame them. 

Sighing, False kicked at a stray pebble. It landed in the gutter on the opposite side of the street. She gazed up at the buildings. Two hotels, with a narrow alleyway in between. Wait. Wasn't that exactly what Beak had described to her? A small wooden sign had been painted with flowers. False walked up to it to inspect it closer. There were green carnations and purple violets decorating the sign, and someone had written  _ The Juggernaut _ underneath. It was worth a shot. False pulled her coat tighter around her body, entering the alleyway. Going around a corner, she found a few steps leading towards a narrow door. There were a few women lounging on the stairs. False smiled at one of them.

“Looking for a good time?” she asked.

“I…” False cleared her throat. “Not exactly.”

“Relax, darling, we’re not going to bite. What is it you’re looking for then?”

“Information,” False replied. “I’m looking for a girl.” 

“Aren’t we all.” The woman scoffed. “Get lost; we don’t do free services here.”

“Please,” False pleaded. “It’s important.” She stepped closer to the group of women. “She’s..” The woman interrupted her.

“Are you deaf? Get. Lost!” She got up, stomping over to False and getting in her face. False had her height, but the woman had her backup, who weren’t exactly looking friendly anymore either.

“Hey!” a man’s voice called out. A woman’s joined him, in a clear English accent: “What the fuck is going on here?”

“Bitch wants free services!” someone yelled.

“No! I don’t!” False objected. She ducked under the arm of the woman standing in front of her so she could face whoever had just appeared. In the doorway, she saw a brown-haired man with glasses and a woman in a deep emerald dress with red hair that cascaded down her back. “I’m just looking for a girl, and I was told she sometimes hung out here!” The redhead walked up to her and looked her up and down. 

“Where’d you get that?” She reached out and touched False’s necklace.

“I...my assistant made it for me.” It had been Stress’ Christmas gift to her last year.

“What’s her name?”

“Stress…” False replied hesitantly. The redhead smiled. “You’re the private investigator. Joe, may we use your office for a moment? Girls, you will tell her everything you know!” She offered False her hand. “Cleo Armistead. This is my bookkeeper, Joe Hills.” Joe nodded at False.

“False Symmetry.”

\--

Cleo led False into a small office, where she found two large dogs resting in front of a fire. False reached out to let them sniff her hand, and one of them decided to rest its head in her lap once she sat down at a table in the corner. Shaking her head, Cleo poured both of them tea before joining her, while Joe worked at his desk.

“I’m the owner of the Juggernaut,” Cleo explained, sipping her tea. “I know all of my people. Who are you looking for?”

“She’s not one of your employees, as far as I know,” False explained, “but one of her friends says she hangs out here a lot? Jeannie Times, goes by Jellie? She’s been missing for about a month now.” Cleo hummed, nodding.

“Yeah, she’s here often. Young college-age girl, bright, a little too naive for her own good. She likes watching the dancers on Fridays.”

“Does she ever work here?” False asked. Cleo nearly spat out her tea. 

“I’m trying to run a business here, not get arrested. No, she’s too young. And besides,” she replied as she set down her cup, “I prefer my people to have seen more of the world before they start working for me.” False only now realised that sometime during their conversation, Cleo’s hand had landed on her stocking-clad knee. She tensed up. Cleo seemed to sense her discomfort, and retracted her hand. “Apologies, I seem to have misread the situation.”

“It’s fine,” False mumbled. She just needed the nervous butterflies in her stomach to settle. Taking a sip of her tea -- Heavens, that was good tea -- to help ground herself, False asked: “Would any of your dancers know anything about Jellie’s whereabouts, by any chance?” Cleo shrugged. 

“Maybe. If I had to take an educated guess, I’d try asking two of my boys: xB and Bdubs. xB should be upstairs.” False frowned at the unusual names, but Cleo clarified: “Stage names. None of my employees use their real names here; it’s too dangerous.” Smiling, she added: “Well, except for Joe of course.”

“Except for me!” Joe agreed from behind his desk, his face hidden by a manila folder. “And Cleo.” Cleo chuckled.

“And me.”

\--

Joe showed False into the building, leading her to a door at the end of the hallway.

"xB?" he called as he knocked on the painted wood. "Do you have a moment?" False could hear some shuffling behind the door, after which it was swung open. Even though she knew it wasn't just women who worked at the Juggernaut, False was still surprised to see a man appear. xB glanced at her.

"I don't do women, Joe; I don't care how much she's paying. No offence, sugar." False shook her head.

"You're not my type either. I'm here to ask you: when's the last time you saw Jeannie Times? She's missing." When xB gazed at her, confused, Joe added: "Jellie."

"Oh! Uh…" xB took a moment to think. "Probably four or five weeks ago? She wouldn't shut up about Italian food. Since then, haven't seen her. Sorry." He shrugged, grabbing a sweater from a dresser and pulling it on. "I wish I could be of more help." He closed the door again.

"That's okay; thanks for your time," False called out. So far, everyone seemed to know and like Jellie, but no-one had any leads on where she could be. False spun around, ready to leave the Juggernaut and give up for the night, but she slammed directly into a warm body. They smelt of fruits and sandalwood, and their arms wrapped around her to prevent her from losing her balance.

“Careful now,” Cleo murmured quietly. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” False blushed, quickly freeing herself from the madam’s embrace.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, still wobbling slightly. Joe quickly offered her his arm instead, which she gladly accepted. 

“Was xB able to help you?” Cleo asked. False shook her head.

“No, he didn’t know much,” Joe replied. Cleo cursed quietly.

“Well, then I’ll walk you over to Bdubs’ apartment. He’s my barman, and I know he usually hovers near Jellie whenever she’s here,” the redhead decided. “It’s only a few blocks from here.”

“Are you sure?” False asked. “You don’t have to do that; I can walk myself.” Cleo didn’t need to chaperone her. The streets didn’t scare her, and she was more than capable of defending herself if need be.

“I need to drop off his pay anyway, so I would appreciate the company,” Cleo decided, smiling. “Joey, be a dear and grab me my coat?” Joe checked whether False was okay before nodding and running off, down the stairs. 

\--

A nearby clock tower struck midnight as False and Cleo walked down Fourth Avenue. A gentle rain had started pouring from the skies, and Cleo had offered False her umbrella to share. So, now they were huddled close together. Where False felt slightly uncomfortable, walking so close to the other woman, Cleo didn’t seem to mind at all. She did appreciate the comfortable silence surrounding them as they walked; False wasn’t feeling much like chatting. 

“It’s just down this alley,” Cleo commented quietly, turning them to the right and between two apartment buildings. As they continued down the narrow pathway, False suddenly heard an all-too-familiar sound. Muffled groans and dull blows could mean only one thing: someone was being beaten up, closeby.

“Get behind me,” she whispered through gritted teeth, pushing one arm in front of Cleo as she reached into her purse for the small revolver she kept on her for emergencies. Rounding the corner, she saw a short man on the pavement, being assaulted by three larger men. “Hey!” she yelled, and all three turned to face her. “Leave him alone!”

“Oh, God, Bdubs!” Cleo exclaimed. The thugs looked at False and laughed.

“What are you gonna do, girl? Throw lipstick at us?” 

False pulled her revolver out of her bag and aimed it at the leader of the three. The men froze.

“Get. Lost. Now,” she growled. 

“As if she even knows how to use that,” one of the men joked, playfully shoving one of his colleagues.

False shot his hand.

“Fuck!” he yelled, grasping his injured hand with his other. "Are you insane?!"

"Should've listened to her," Bdubs managed to splutter from his curled-up position on the ground. As the thugs ran off, Cleo sped over to Bdubs, helping him up while False secured the perimeter. "I'm getting blood all over your pretty dress," Bdubs protested. Cleo shook her head.

"Dresses can be fixed, and I always love a new reason to make Joe spend money. Now let's get you inside before the cops show up."

\--

"Jellie, huh?" Bdubs asked, hissing as Cleo cleaned a cut on his cheek with alcohol. "Yeah, I know her. When she's not following that Scar around or going to school, she's at Jevin's or at the Juggernaut. She likes watching the girls dance.”

“So I’ve heard,” False agreed. She handed Cleo a new bandage. “When’s the last time you saw her?”

“Uh…” Bdubs winced. “Gentle with the face, Zombie! It’s the moneymaker!”

“Zombie?” False inquired. Cleo chuckled.

“My people call me Zombie Cleo...because I’m only up at night and avoid the sun like the plague.”

“And because you bit a man’s head off once,” Bdubs added, grinning at both women.

“That’s just a rumour!” Cleo chastised him, pinching his nose. Bdubs squealed, batting her arm away. 

“Anyway,” he continued, getting up so he could pour all three of them a drink, “last time I saw her she was meeting a client out back.” Cleo seemed to choke on air.

“A  _ client _ ?!” she exclaimed. “You’re trying to tell me that someone has been approving an  _ underage girl _ for work?! That’s the kind of stuff that gets us closed down, Bdubs! I…” She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and her index finger. 

“It’s not via us,” Bdubs reassured her. “No-one at the Juggernaut would ever allow her to work. She’s got some external pimp. Told me she’s doing the work to help pay for her brother’s medical bills.” He sighed. “She’s a good girl, just misguided.” Cleo groaned, biting her lip. 

“The police aren't going to care that it’s not via us. They’ll see that she was meeting clients on our terrain, and they’ll refuse to listen.”

“About that…” Bdubs mumbled. Cleo and False stared at him. “Her last client before she disappeared? That may or may not have been Xisuma Void.” False’s brow furrowed. Where had she heard that name before? Cleo let the pair of scissors she had been holding crash onto the tiled floor of Bdubs’ kitchen.

“The Nashville Police Department  _ CAPTAIN _ ?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Camp Cheerful, where Scar works, was established in 1947, though not in Nashville, but in Cleveland, Ohio. It still exists today, and is now run by the Achievement Centers for Children.  
> Thank you so much for reading; I'd love to hear what you think!


	2. Two: The Big Sleep

The following morning, when False entered her office with Cleo right behind her, Stress tilted her head at them in confusion.

“Cleo? What’re you doin’ here? Can I ‘elp you?” she inquired, while already getting up to prepare tea for all of them. 

“No, she’s here to help us,” False responded, taking Cleo’s coat and hanging it on the small coat rack in the corner. Cleo smiled at Stress, walking over to pull her in for a hug.

“Hi, Stress. You look good.” 

"Ditto," Stress replied. The two women hugged in silence for just a moment before Stress directed Cleo over to the chair reserved for clients. Once all three were settled at False's desk with their tea, she asked: "So, what did you find out?"

"Jellie has been working as an illicit escort," False stated. Stress shot Cleo a concerned look.

"Absolutely not via  _ The Juggernaut, _ " Cleo immediately declared. "You know me, no underage girls." 

"And Xisuma Void is involved," False added.

"Well shit," Stress commented. "Like, he's her pimp or somefin'?" 

"I highly doubt that, but we still need to check him out nevertheless. I just don't know how to get close to the captain of the police without making a scene." Cleo hummed quietly.

"I could try to get him to hire  _ me _ ?" she suggested.

"I thought you didn't do that anymore?" Stress asked. Cleo shrugged. 

"I haven't in years, but a leopard cannot change its spots now can it?" she replied, subtle cynicism dripping from her voice. "I'm just hoping he'll need another girl soon." Suddenly, Stress grabbed the telephone and began paging through a notebook to find a phone number.

"I might have a friend who could help, hold on…" She dialled the number, and held the phone to her ear, until all three could hear the telltale click of someone answering the call on the other end of the line. "Hi, this is Stress Monster calling for Iskall Åttiofem? … Yes, I'll hold, fank you." Covering the horn with her hand she explained: "I went to school with Iskall. They're a clerk at town hall." The phone distracted her again. "Hello Iskall!" She giggled quietly, and False and Cleo shot each other a knowing look as Stress twirled the phone cord between two fingers. "Listen, my boss could really use your help. … You  _ would _ ? Oh, fank you Iskall!" Stress caught the other two women's attention. "They ask whether we can meet them at the diner across the street from the town hall for lunch?" False looked at Cleo for confirmation, and nodded. "Okay, we'll meet you there!"

\--

The diner was quaint, run by an elderly couple and their daughters. False had been there once or twice before, when her financial situation hadn't been as dire. Stress' friend was tall and muscular, but there was something instantaneously comforting about their presence. 

"Hallo!" they greeted the three women as they joined them in a booth. False had to admit they made up an unusual sight: False in her pantsuit, Stress in her typical girly pink and creme, with Cleo looking like a lady of the night even in her day dress, along with Iskall who had combined a frilly blouse and mens' slacks. The girl serving them didn't seem to care, though, as long as they were paying guests. Once they had all been served coffee and had placed their lunch orders, Iskall asked: "So, what can I do for you ladies?" 

"We need to get close to Xisuma Void," False stated immediately. There was no reason to beat around the bush: either Iskall could help her, or they couldn't. Iskall nearly spit out their coffee.

"Might I ask why?" they asked once they had caught their breath.

"A girl is missing, and as far as I know, he's the last-known person to have seen her," False explained. 

"Another?" Iskall muttered. They shook their head. "First Pamela Dog, then Matilda Lisowski…and now another one? Who?"

"Jellie Times," Stress replied. 

"Times as in Scar Times?" Iskall inquired. When False nodded, they revealed: "My sons attend Camp Cheerful every year. Scar's the manager, so I've met him before."

"What were you saying about Matilda Lisowski? That's the mayor's daughter, right?" Cleo asked, smiling at their waitress who placed their lunch on the table: eggs for Iskall, hotcakes for Stress, and an omelette for Cleo. False hadn't ordered anything; she'd be fine. Silently, Cleo took the small plate her complimentary toast had come on, and deposited a piece of toast and half of her omelette onto it, sliding it in front of False. False wanted to object, but she also didn't want to attract the attention of the other patrons. So, she quietly nodded her thanks. Cleo squeezed her knee under the table.

"Matilda went missing about three weeks ago, I think?" Iskall replied to Cleo's question. They took a bite of their eggs. "Entire police force is looking for her, but you know the police and their efficiency." Sighing, they continued: "And Pamela, my neighbour Ren's daughter, she's been missing too. Disappeared a week ago. They're all around the same age. He’s a nice dude; he’ll talk to you if I ask him to." 

"That's not a coincidence; it can't be. I’d love to ask your neighbour about the situation, see what he knows. Thank you. I’ll have to try to get to speak to the mayor too," False decided, already handing Iskall a business card. 

"I can probably get you an appointment with mayor Lisowski, if you’d like. How exactly did you want to approach Captain Void, though?" Iskall asked. "I'm not sure I understand how to help you." Cleo sighed.

"You may have guessed my occupation?" she asked as a reply. When Iskall nodded at her necklace, she continued: "I’m hoping to get him to hire me.” False took a moment to look at Cleo’s necklace as well. It was a single pendant on a long and thin silver chain, resting just between her breasts. It bore the images she had also seen on the sign for  _ The Juggernaut _ , a violet and a green carnation. 

“Your best bet, then,” Iskall responded, “is trying to see whether he needs a companion for the next police gala. I know there’s one taking place at city hall two nights from now. But you can’t just approach him; if word got out that he’s using an escort, that would be a revelation of  _ doom _ !” 

“He must have a pressing reason to use working girls,” Cleo thought out loud. “Single men aren’t looked down upon, so I wonder why he takes the risk.”

“He’s probably scared of somefin’ then,” Stress commented. The others nodded in agreement.

“But...of what?”

\--

The next day, False found herself walking up to city hall. The building was large and imposing, and she wasn’t too happy to be here. False preferred working clandestinely, through observation and by questioning civilians, not through official appointments with politicians. Taking a deep breath, she entered the lobby, where she was met with a familiar face.

"Iskall?" They looked up from the ledger they were writing in and grinned at False.

"Good afternoon, Miss Symmetry." They nodded at her and handed her the registrar.

"I didn't know you worked the reception?" False commented as she jotted down her name and address. No-one from her side of town seemed to frequent the mayor's office, though she saw Xisuma Void's name show up at least every other day.

"I don't," Iskall replied, accepting her entry and handing her a vistors' badge. "But Bernie, who normally does, called in sick today, so I'm stepping in." They pointed to a large double staircase behind them. "Go up the stairs, then keep right until you see large double doors. If they're closed, knock before entering." False nodded, doing as Iskall had instructed her. The decor of the hallways was beautiful, and yet she couldn't help but feel some sort of resentment that this was where everyone's hard-earned tax dollars were going. The only set of double doors she found was indeed closed, so she knocked and waited. Within a few seconds, they opened, and the face she knew from the newspapers as mayor Keralis Lisowski appeared in the doorway, with a man she didn't recognise behind him. 

"Thank you, Shishwammy," the mayor told the man. "I'll see you next week." Silently, the man nodded, tipped his hat at False, and left the room, holding the door open for False as he left. "Iskall's friend, I presume?" Mayor Lisowski asked, motioning for False to take a seat in one of the two armchairs tucked into the corner of the office. 

"False Symmetry," she replied, smiling at the mayor. She needed to get on the man's good side, needed to make him trust her. "Thank you for agreeing to see me, mister mayor." He chuckled. 

"Please, call me Keralis. May I call you False?" When False nodded, he continued: "I understand you have information about my precious Matilda, yes?" His large eyes stared at her, hopeful and concerned. False sighed. 

"All I know is that multiple girls of Matilda's age have gone missing over the past month or so," she told him. Keralis' face fell. "I’m sorry, I wish I had something concrete to tell you, " False added. She did genuinely feel bad for the man. He had multiple photos of a girl whom she assumed to be Matilda in his office. She looked similar to Jellie, though taller and lankier, with an unruly bunch of curls instead of Jellie’s straight locks. 

"More?" Keralis asked quietly. He took a deep, shaky breath. "That's awful. Those poor families." That was more compassion than she had expected from the mayor. "I was hoping it had something to do with my position, that I would get a notice asking for money and that I would get my beautiful Matilda back, but now…" He took another breath. "Now I worry it may not be that simple." After a moment, he asked her: "Please, Falsie, can you tell me about the others?" False would have berated him for the childish nickname, but it seemed natural to his manner of speech. For some reason, she wasn't as bothered as she normally would have been.

"There's at least two other girls missing," she replied. "Jeannie Times, a college student, and Pamela Dog, though I still have to meet with Pamela's father to ask him about her disappearance." Keralis seemed to perk up at her mention of Jellie. 

"Jeannie Times? Pretty girl, handsome brother?" He nodded enthusiastically. "I remember her; she was at Matilda's birthday party last July. Very polite. She's missing too?"

"For at least a month now," False responded. "And…" She hesitated. Would she tell Keralis about Xisuma Void's involvement? No, she felt like it was safer to keep that to herself for now. "And we have no idea where she's gone."

"I have the police looking out for Matilda," Keralis stated, "but I'll inform them of Jeannie and Pamela's situation as well. Could you perhaps provide me with photos of them, to spread illustrations among the corps?" False nodded. 

"I’m meeting Mister Dog tonight," she replied, "and I'll ask him for a photo of Pamela, then I'll deliver them to you tomorrow morning." Smiling, Keralis reached for her good hand and grasped it in both of his, though False could see unshed tears in his eyes. "Thank you, Falsie. Thank you." Well, at least she would now be able to tell Scar the police would finally be taking them seriously. 

\--

Outside, False took a shaky breath under a tree. God, she hated officials and authority. Even though Keralis seemed nice, she could never truly trust them. As a disabled unmarried woman, they were never on her side. And she had the  _ luck  _ of being white. Ugh. Get yourself together, False. No self pity today. She looked at her watch. If she hurried, she would have some time to freshen up at home before heading over to Iskall's neighbour Ren, who had invited her for dinner after they had informed him of False's position. 

\--

No warning of Iskall's ("Ren can be a little bit...omega," whatever they had meant by that) could have been enough to prepare False for the exuberant personality of Ren Dog. He had greeted her by waving enthusiastically from his front lawn while False was still halfway down the street. When she had asked him how he had even known whether he had been waving at the right woman, Ren had replied: "Ren Diggity Dog never approaches the  _ wrong  _ lady." Still, False found him amusing, and she would never say no to a free meal, especially these days. 

So, now False was sitting in Ren's backyard, warmed by a fire she wasn't one hundred percent sure was legal to ignite in the middle of a residential neighbourhood, holding a plate of casserole and a spork. She had to admit though, that the food tasted amazing. Ren had been talking non-stop ever since she had arrived, telling her everything he could about 'his Pamela'. He had shown her photos and a painted portrait of the 17-year-old girl, a smiling redhead with rosy cheeks and large brown eyes. She had gone to school last week, and had never come home. Ren had gone over to her high school to see what they knew, and the headmistress had told him that Pamela had never arrived at school that day. Ren was at a loss. The police wasn't exactly his best friend, and he had no idea how to find his daughter. 

"Do you think a boy could be involved?" False asked as she took another bite of casserole. Ren burst out laughing. 

"No, that's impossible," he replied, still chuckling. "Not Pamela."

"Girls can hide things from their parents," False tried to explain, but Ren shook his head.

"I know that girls keep secrets from their fathers. It's impossible because Pamela doesn't like boys. Or girls. Or anyone in between for that matter. She has friends, but doesn't ever want a romantic partner." Shrugging, he added: "It's always been that way." False nodded in understanding. In her experience, parents were often clueless when it came to the inner thoughts of their children, but she wanted to believe Ren. 

\--

False groaned quietly as she stepped off of the bus, nodding her thanks to the driver. It was but a few feet to the entrance of her building, but she was absolutely  _ exhausted  _ after multiple days of having to interact with other people without pause. She desperately needed some peace and quiet, and to get out of her arm brace. As she arrived at her front door, she realised peace and quiet would have to wait still.

Cleo was leaning against the doorframe. 

"Good, you're here," she stated while False approached her. "Where  _ were  _ you?"

"At Ren's," False replied, unlocking the door and letting the both of them into her postage-stamp-sized apartment. As she closed it behind her, she saw one of her neighbours down the hall give her a judgemental stare. She honestly couldn’t care less about what they thought, even if everything about Cleo  _ screamed  _ academician. “Tea?” she asked Cleo, who decided to take a seat on her small two-person sofa.

“Do you have anything stronger?” the madam asked. False chuckled.

“Sure, I have coffee.” Cleo raised an eyebrow, but replied: “I’ll have whatever you’re having, then.”

“Tea it is.” False prepared the hot drink in a comfortable silence while Cleo took in her studio apartment. 

"I like your tablecloth," the woman commented as False handed her a steaming mug of tea. She had checked her cupboards for anything to go with the drink, but it seemed she was completely out -- again. False followed Cleo's gaze to the embroidered soft blue fabric covering her dining table.

"Thank you," she responded, "my sister made it."

"You have a sister?" Cleo asked, taking a sip of her tea.

"Had," False corrected her. She could sense Cleo was about to apologise, so she shook her head. "It's okay; it's been years. It's just me now, and that's how I like it." She wanted to emphasise her statement with a smile, but as she moved, her arm protested, and instead, she couldn’t suppress a wince. 

“Are you okay?” Cleo asked, concern visible in her features. Great. This was exactly what she hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone about, and yet, it was getting in her way once again. Sighing, False loosened the buttons of her blouse and pulled her left arm out of it, her modesty still protected by the singlet she was wearing underneath. She couldn’t look Cleo in the eye as she revealed her  _ weakness _ , her useless left forearm and wrist. Soft, cool fingers touched her skin, and False closed her eyes. “It’s hurting you,” Cleo realised quietly. False could feel her touch the locking mechanism. “It’s too tight.” False wanted to ask how she knew that. The words formed in her throat but got stuck there. Thankfully, Cleo decided to explain: “I was a nurse before… Well, it doesn’t matter. I used to be a nurse. May I?” Cleo’s fingers still rested on the lock, and False offered her the slightest of nods. She felt the lock move just slightly, and then the mechanism loosened, sending a shot of pain through her arm before finally beginning to offer her tired joints and muscles some relief. It wasn’t until those same cool fingers wiped wetness off of her cheeks that False realised that she was crying.

“Sorry,” False offered. Cleo’s hand cupped her jaw.

“Don’t apologise for being human,” she replied quietly. “Do you have a bandage I can use to wrap your arm? I don’t like how much fluid build-up is there. Have you been wearing the brace too much?” False thought back.

“I...haven’t taken it off in three days, I think.” She braced herself for a berating by Cleo, but instead the woman just sighed. “There should be some clean bandages in the bathroom,” False added.

“Thank you,” Cleo whispered. Huh? Why was Cleo thanking  _ her _ ? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Once Cleo had salved some of the angrier welts on her skin and bandaged her painful joints, False finally dared open her eyes again. Cleo had reclined in her seat again, still sipping her now-lukewarm tea. 

“Cleo?” False asked.

“Hm?”

“Why were you waiting for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised this chapter was becoming much too long, so I've split it into two. Part three will be coming as soon as possible!


	3. Three: In a Lonely Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for one use of the word 'cr*ppled' uttered by a disabled person to refer to themselves. I chose to use it due to the historical setting.

“Right.” Cleo cleared her throat. “I wanted to tell you: I got Xisuma to hire me.”

“You did?” False felt a strange stab of jealousy. Weird. 

“I did. He’d hired one of my girls for tomorrow night, and I paid her to take the night off.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” False countered, using her good arm to reach for her wallet. “How much did you pay her?” Cleo immediately shook her head, swatting it to the floor.

“You will not pay me back. It’s nothing, and Xisuma is paying me enough to more than cover the cost. Besides, I want to help.” Cleo sighed. “Anyway, I was here not just to tell you that, but also to give you this. A gift, from Joe.” She produced two small pieces of paper from her coat pocket. False studied them.

“Tickets to the police gala?” she read out loud. 

“So you can be there too,” Cleo replied. “Women need an escort, though. I’d ask Joe, but he has his dogs.” She rolled her eyes with a gentle smile on her face.

“His dogs?” False asked.

“He runs a dog sanctuary on the side,” Cleo explained. “The  _ Vineyard _ . It’s why I let him come into the  _ Juggernaut  _ at all hours of the day, whenever he’s got time.” She shrugged. “I like to think that, even if it’s not me, I can at least enable someone to do something good in the world.” Before False could ask her what she meant, Cleo smiled and stated: “But, anyway. That’s why he can’t escort you.”

“I think I might know someone…” False thought.

\--

“I still don’t understand why you’ve invited me, of all people,” Scar whispered to False as they approached a large double door where two guards were waiting. “We’re…” He swallowed his words.

“We’re both visibly crippled, I know,” False replied. If she was being honest, she was absolutely terrified. She hated showing the world she had a vulnerability, a very obvious one. Still, she had omitted wearing gloves or long sleeves on purpose tonight. “If everyone’s looking at us, they’re not looking at Cleo and Xisuma. Besides,” she added, “if anything, we’ll get to have a night out on the town.” She laid her right hand on Scar’s shoulder in lieu of grasping his arm, and smiled at the guards. Scar handed them the two forged tickets. The guards let them through. False released a breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding. 

\--

The gala hall was humongous. False couldn’t help but stare open-mouthed at the decorated ceilings and bright lights. A band played soft music in the corner, and everyone present was dressed in formal gown and suits, with the members of the police in their dress uniforms. Various couples were swing dancing in the middle of the dance floor, leaving the outer edges for the guests who chose to converse rather than engage in physical activity. 

“Do you dance?” Scar asked, guiding False further into the room. 

“I do,” she replied. “Do you?” The man shrugged, offering her a lopsided smile. 

“I know how to help someone dance  _ around  _ me.” Chuckling, False let him drag her onto the dance floor as the band began to play a calm rhumba. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Cleo and a man who had to be Xisuma, talking to Keralis and a young girl.

“Is that the mayor’s wife?” False asked quietly, moving around Scar in a slow-quick-quick box pattern. 

“His daughter,” Scar replied, “Matilda’s younger sister. His wife died when she was born.” He offered her his hand as she swayed. “Keralis usually takes one of his daughters to these kinds of events; he never remarried.” False nodded. She felt like she had seen Xisuma before, but where? He was wearing a dress uniform, and she could see an X-shaped scar in the middle of his face. Cleo had pinned her hair up, class and elegance oozing from her every being. False knew she was a professional, but seeing her at work was like seeing a completely different person. She was so distracted by the sight that she nearly tripped over her own feet, Scar catching her just in time. “Maybe we should take a break?” he offered. False shook her head.

"Take me to the middle of the floor," she murmured. "We need to grab the attention, so that Cleo can talk to Xisuma." Scar let out a nervous chuckle.

"Alright then. One distraction, coming right up."

\--

Cleo watched as False danced with Scar. Her dress was modest, and slightly more casual than those of the other women present, but the rich blue made her eyes sparkle. She forced herself to tear her gaze away, instead deciding to focus on her John for the evening: Xisuma Void. He had been...surprisingly pleasant, so far. He hadn’t insisted on kissing her or had tried to accost her in the car ride to the venue. Instead, he had even asked her permission to escort her to the doors. Now, she needed to get him somewhere private, away from prying eyes and nosy ears. The problem was: he hadn’t stopped talking to the mayor since they had arrived. She offered the young girl accompanying Keralis a smile. She seemed bored; Cleo couldn’t blame her. 

“I need to prepare the speech I need to give tonight,” Keralis suddenly announced. “Would you care to join me and Embeth in a private room? I need to go over my notes.” Xisuma glanced at Cleo. She shrugged at him. Play it cool, don’t look too eager. Nodding, the Captain agreed: “Alright, lead the way.” 

\--

False watched as Cleo and Xisuma followed Keralis and his daughter through a door marked  _ Private _ . She hoped they would be okay; that Cleo wouldn’t blow her cover. Taking a deep breath, she paused her dancing.

“Alright,  _ now  _ let’s take a break.”

\--

The suite Keralis took them to was large and extensively decorated. Embeth immediately took a seat on an armchair in the corner near the window, seemingly used to getting dragged along to these kinds of events and scenes. She smiled as Keralis handed her a worn storybook and began reading. Cleo herself decided to sit down on the far corner of the bed, pretending not to want to intrude on Keralis and Xisuma’s conversation. 

She did, indeed, plan on eavesdropping.

The two men took a moment to converse at a whispered volume, before Keralis nodded and announced: “I need to go grab some of my notes from my car; I’ll be right back.” Embeth jumped up.

“Can I come with you, papa?” Smiling, Keralis nodded, and she followed him out of the hotel room. This was it, Cleo’s chance. She had no time to waste.

“So, why did you invite me here?” she asked. Xisuma turned to face her, confusion visible in his features. “There are many single men here; why not just come alone?” He seemed to hesitate, skittish, even. Sighing, he stared at his feet.

“It’s complicated,” he murmured. 

“So complicated that you can’t even tell a  _ whore _ ?” Cleo retorted. She uncrossed her legs, standing up and walking over to the police captain. “Unless it’s to cover up a murder, I doubt it can be that bad.” She placed one hand on his cheek, stroking his jaw lightly. 

“Keralis...I…” Xisuma stammered. Cleo cocked her head to one side. “He… I’d lose my job, so would he...” Xisuma grunted in frustration. Suddenly, everything clicked in Cleo’s mind. The intense conversing the moment they had spotted Keralis. The reason Xisuma hired girls. Why he had come to the  _ Juggernaut _ , of all places.

“You love him,” she deduced quietly. 

Xisuma let out a pained sob.

\--

Cleo was still holding Xisuma in a light embrace when Keralis returned, announcing that Embeth had been tired, and that he had therefore left her with a nanny. Xisuma’s tears had since subsided, but his breaths had remained shaky. 

“Shishwammy?” Keralis asked, rushing over to them. Cleo guided them both to sit on the bed, Xisuma in the middle of the three of them. “Oh, Shishwammy,” Keralis murmured again, reaching over to hold him, but he paused, glancing at Cleo.

“I know,” she soothed. “It’s safe with me.” 

Keralis pulled Xisuma into his arms, peppering his face and hair with kisses.

“It’s okay, Shishwammy; it’s okay.”

\--

“I need to talk to you, both of you,” Cleo told both men once Xisuma had calmed down in Keralis’ arms. “Or, well, someone else does.”

“Someone else?” Xisuma asked, wiping the last of his tears away. “Who?”

“False Symmetry,” Cleo replied. 

“Iskall’s friend?” Keralis asked, confused. 

“The private investigator?” Xisuma asked at the same time.

“The  _ what now _ ?” Sighing, Cleo shook her head. 

“Obviously, your daughter has been missing for a while now, yes?” When Keralis nodded, she continued: “Well, so have at least two other girls: Jeannie Times and Pamela Dog.” 

“Yes, Falsie told me that,” Keralis agreed.

“Jeannie Times also goes by Jellie,” Cleo added. She watched as the gears seemed to click into place in Xisuma’s mind. 

“Oh no…” he mumbled. 

“You’re the last one to have seen her before her disappearance, Captain Void,” Cleo stated. “And since Miss Symmetry is investigating Jeannie’s case, she’d like to ask you what happened after you last hired her.” Xisuma nodded silently. 

“Is she here?” Keralis asked, grabbing Xisuma’s hand in his.

“Yes,” Cleo replied. “She’s the blonde in the navy dress, accompanied by the young man in the wheelchair -- Scar Times, Jeannie’s brother.” 

“Please, go into the ballroom and ask them to meet us here,” Keralis decided. “It’s time we opened up.”

\--

False was utterly confused. Cleo had rushed out into the ballroom from wherever she had disappeared off to, hissing at Scar and her to follow her  _ immediately _ . Was there something wrong? Was their cover blown? Had someone figured out their tickets were fake?

“In here,” Cleo announced, ushering them into one of the hotel’s larger suites. Inside, False came face-to-face with Keralis and Xisuma...holding hands? Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Immediately, she told them: “Nothing has to leave this room.”

“Thank you, Miss Symmetry,” Keralis replied. He nudged Xisuma gently. “Go on, Shishwammy, tell them what you know.”  _ That _ was where she knew Xisuma from -- he had been the man exiting Keralis’ office as she had arrived there yesterday. 

“I hired Jellie’s companionship about a month ago,” Xisuma started, staring at the floor as he spoke. “If I had known how young she truly was, I never would have gone through with it, but I needed a date to keep up my cover story of being a ladies’ man, and that being the reason why I haven’t settled down with a nice girl yet.” He took a shaky breath. “After the party, I escorted her to a taxi, and I paid for her trip home. Then I met up with my brother.”

“You have a brother?” Keralis asked, surprised. Xisuma nodded.

“Exequiel. He likes to call himself  _ Evil X _ , that should tell you enough about him. He chose a life path opposite to mine, but I still meet with him occasionally, to make sure he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere.” He shuddered. 

“Do you think...Exequiel might be involved in some way?” False asked hesitantly.

“Who knows,” Xisuma replied. He looked up at False and Scar. “Maybe.”

“Then it’s him we need to track down,” Cleo decided.

“He usually stays in an abandoned warehouse near the harbour,” Xisuma replied. “I can give you the address. I’d go, but if I ask him to meet me now, so soon after our last appointment, he’ll know something’s up.” False nodded.

“I’ll go,” she decided. Before anyone else could speak up, she added: “ _ Alone _ .”

\--

False pulled her coat tighter around herself as she approached the address Xisuma had given her late the following night. It was an old slaughterhouse and meatpacking plant. The company's owner had died in the war, and his son had had no interest in continuing the business, Stress had found out, and the warehouse had been abandoned ever since. According to Xisuma, Exequiel slept during the day and worked at night. As much as she wanted to snoop around undisturbed, she felt it could be useful to speak to the man as well. She just needed an excuse as to why she was there.

Walking up to the brownstone building, False checked the front door, just in case. It was locked. That was fine; she had expected it to be. The lock was too complicated for her to pick as well -- her brace didn't allow her to do such delicate motions with a lot of force. She didn’t see any side entrances either. Gazing at the building, False spotted an open window one floor up. It was time to climb.

\--

The interior of the warehouse was even more depressing than the exterior, False thought to herself as she entered an office through the window. It was cold and murky and everything smelled  _ rotten _ . She was pretty certain she saw a rat skitter across the floor when she landed on a desk. Still, she was here on a mission. Retrieving her revolver, she held it at the ready as she tiptoed out of the office. To her right was a dead end, but to her left the corridor continued towards a flight of stairs. False checked every room she passed as she made her way down the hallway, but they were all empty. The stairs led towards a catwalk and down onto the main floor. False wanted to go up on the catwalk, but there was nowhere for her to take cover up there, so she had to settle for walking down the stairs. Rounding a corner, she suddenly heard voices.

“No you idiot,” a low voice muttered, “we can’t transport them yet. I don’t have buyers for the newest ones.”

“Can’t we just move them anyway, and try to find buyers in Nevada?” a higher voice asked. False heard something that had to have been a slap, and the owner of the higher voice groaning. 

“No.” The lower voice seemed angered. “I’m not risking that.”

False carefully crept closer, making sure to stay pressed against machines and tables and out of the light. A small group of people came into view, four men and a woman. One of the men matched Xisuma’s description of Exequiel -  _ Evil X.  _ Next to him stood a blonde man with near-red eyes, holding his cheek. That had to have been the one with the higher voice. The two other men she didn’t recognise, and the woman had her back turned to False. Still, she felt like she had seen her before. As she tried to move closer, her hip accidentally bumped into a table, sending a piece of metal falling onto the floor. The woman turned her head into her direction.

No.

That couldn’t be.

That was impossible.

Tracey was in England.

“Felicia?!” the woman called out. Immediately, Evil X marched over to False’s location and grabbed her by her shoulders. 

“And who the Hell are you supposed to be?! True, do you know her?” Tracey groaned.

“That would be my  _ sister,  _ Felicia Symmetry _. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Embeth was named after Embeth Davidtz, the actress who played Miss Honey in _Matilda_ (1996).
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	4. Four: Out of the Past

False winced as Evil X threw her onto the ground in the middle of the small gathering of people. Multiple handguns were immediately pointed at her head and chest.

"What the  _ fuck  _ are you doing in Nashville, 'Leese?" Tracey asked. "You're supposed to be in Australia!" False scoffed. 

"No, that's where the smuggler told Mum he was taking me. In reality, he dumped me on a cargo ship and left me to die," she countered. "I arrived in New York and had to fend for myself. What are  _ you  _ doing here, Trace?" At her revelation, something in Tracey's face seemed to soften.

"I came here after the War." Tracey sighed. "Mum's dead, 'Leese, and so is Dad. Cancer, the both of them. I ran into Bad," she explained, nodding at the Asian man pointing a decorated revolver at her. "He took me to the States. And...I go by True now." False couldn't suppress a smile at the irony.

"I'm False." 

"As  _ adorable _ as this little family reunion is," Evil X suddenly interrupted, "you broke into our building. Why?" False took a deep breath.

"I'm looking for my husband," she lied. "He disappeared a few weeks ago, and he was recently spotted in the neighbourhood. I saw light, and got hopeful." Evil X raised an eyebrow. 

"You don't look like the housewife type." False shrugged.

"I don't know what to tell you," she replied. "I'm just looking for Dick." Bad tapped on Evil X's shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Evil X grinned, and murmured: "That's why I keep you around, Budo." He walked up to False and knelt in front of her. 

"Where's your wedding ring, Mary Magdalene?" False cursed inwardly. 

"Can we just get rid of her, please?" the blond man who had been quiet up until then asked. His right cheek was bright red, confirming False's suspicion that he had been on the receiving end of a punch or slap just now. "She's making me nervous." 

"Shut it, Tango," Evil X commanded. "I'm wondering if I can ship her."

" _ Ship  _ me?" False blurted out. 

"What, you're hoping someone will offer petty cash for a dried-up spinster?" Bad asked, causing False to spat at him in response. Pain immediately flared through her stomach as the man kicked her in retaliation. 

"Hey!" Evil X yelled. "Be careful with the goods!" Tracey -- True -- rolled her eyes and knelt down next to False. Mouthing:  _ 'Sorry _ ,' she grabbed her wrist and rolled up her sleeve. 

"Look," she told the men. "She's  _ damaged.  _ You can't sell her; no man or brothel will want her. And I doubt she's still a virgin." The three men stared at her bad arm.

"Well fuck," Evil X cursed. "What am I going to have to do with you now?" False felt him press the barrel of a gun against her temple. "Because I can't just let you go…"

\--

A loud splash broke the night's pristine silence. 

"That's my  _ sister _ , you bastard!" True yelled, punching Evil X's arm.

"That  _ was  _ your sister," Evil X replied. "And unless you'd also like to join her, I suggest you shut up and help us exfiltrate."

\--

Cleo woke to a loud banging on her door.

"Not another police raid," she muttered to herself. Well, if they were going to drag her out of bed at -- she checked the clock -- four in the morning, she wasn't going to get properly dressed either. Petting the head of one of Joe's dogs that had somehow ended up in her bedroom, she pulled a blanket around her bare torso and made her way downstairs. A sleepy-eyed Joe was standing in the doorway of the once-guestroom that had been  _ his  _ room for years now, gun trained on the door. Nodding at him, Cleo yelled: "Who is it?"

"Stress!" Wide-eyed, Cleo swung the door open. Stress was soaked through and through, the rain thundering down from the sky. She ushered the woman inside into the bar area, telling Joe to grab a few towels and some dry clothing for her.

"What's going on? Why are you here at this hour?" Cleo asked, grabbing a brush so she could get Stress' hair out of her face.

"False," Stress replied out of breath. "She…"

"Breathe, Stress, darling," Cleo soothed. She got up and lit the stove, placing a kettle on the fire so she could make the woman some tea to help warm her up.

"False went to Evil X's warehouse at nine-thirty. She's still not back, and I'm worried somefin's happened," Stress managed to tell her. Cleo froze, ice creeping down her spine.

"Where was the address?" she asked.

"Johnson's old meat packing plant, over at the 'arbour. Do you fink we should call the police?" Cleo shook her head.

"No, no police. The only one who even knows she's involved is Xisuma, and I don't want to risk him and Keralis getting outed." Sighing, she yelled: "Joe?!" She could hear the man in question rush down the stairs after which he burst through the doorway, the requested items in his hands. 

"Howdy," he offered as a greeting.

"Can you call us a taxi to the harbour please?" He nodded.

"Of course, just a moment."

"And I may need to borrow your firearm."

\--

“If you’re looking for a lost lass, are you sure you want to head over to the harbour, ma’am?” the early-morning cab driver who had introduced himself to Cleo and Stress as ‘Beef’ asked. “It’s not exactly a nice part of town.”

“I know,” Cleo responded. Internally, she thought: ‘Why do you think we’re racing over there at four-thirty in the morning?’ Going after False was incredibly stupid. She had only just met the blonde; she owed her nothing. And yet, she couldn’t let Stress stick out her neck by herself. Speaking of Stress, the poor woman was panicked beyond reason. Reaching out to soothingly stroke her knee, Cleo murmured: “It’s going to be okay. She’s smart, and she’s agile.”

“She’s also a woman, and disabled,” Stress replied, chewing on her bottom lip. At this rate, she wouldn’t have any lower jaw left by the time they got there. 

“Don’t ever let her hear you say that,” Cleo quipped, but Stress didn’t laugh. Damn it. She wished she knew exactly what to say, but talking wasn’t Cleo’s strong suit. There was a good reason she made her money using her body and teaching others how to do so. The independence it gave her was the first, but not having her employment rely on meaningful conversations was a close second. They continued the drive in an uncomfortable, tense silence. 

“Here’s the warehouse you mentioned,” Beef stated, pointing at a run-down building on the other side of the road. “Would you like me to wait for you here?” Cleo hesitated. She hadn’t planned that far ahead. She didn’t want to take up the man’s time, but on the other hand, what was she going to do if he left and she found False? She couldn’t exactly knock on a random door and ask to use their phone at this hour.

“Yes, please,” Stress replied for her. Beef nodded. 

“Then I’ll stay here for at least an hour. Come check in with me if you need me to hang around longer, alright?” 

“Thank you.” Cleo meant it. Selfless kindness seemed rare these days, and it was an unusual sensation to be confronted with it now.

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

\--

Cleo handed Stress her torchlight while she herself kept both of her hands on Joe’s gun as they carefully searched the area. The building itself seemed completely locked and abandoned. No lights were on, and all doors and windows were closed or boarded up. She didn’t expect False to still be inside after all these hours; the woman was smarter than that, wasn’t she? No, the direct surroundings of the meat-packing plant seemed more likely .

“Cleo.” The whisper came from Stress, who was pointing the light at something on the pavement. 

Blood.

“No…” Cleo breathed.

Blood, and blonde hair. 

“Oh God…” Stress whimpered. 

“We have to follow the trail,” Cleo decided. “It could be someone else’s.” Stress bent down and touched the red substance.

“I doubt it. It’s still wet.”

\--

The trail led them to the quay, after which it suddenly stopped.

“Do you see any more?” Cleo wondered. Stress shook her head.

“Noffin’.” 

Suddenly, Cleo spotted something in the water.

“Stress, light. On the water, by that pole.” It took Stress a moment to find what Cleo wanted her to point the flashlight at.

Stress screamed.

False was face-down in the waves, completely limp.

Without taking a moment longer to think, Cleo immediately pulled her dress over her head and yelled: “Get the driver over here; I’m getting her out!” She dove into the ice-cold water, and prayed. 

\--

Getting through the harsh waves was a struggle. Cleo knew how to swim, but it had been ages since she’d swum anywhere that wasn’t a swimming pool. The force of the water toyed with her, throwing her in all directions, but she had to power through. A large wave slammed her to the left, against a buoy. She felt the air leave her body at the impact, her entire side burning in pain. She couldn’t give up. Forcing herself to take a grounding breath, Cleo continued until she  _ finally  _ reached the pole they had spotted. 

“I’m here, False; I’m here!” she yelled, but False didn’t react. Cleo grunted, wrapping her arm around False’s chest and pulling her face above the water level with all her might. There was a dock closeby, hopefully she would be able to get her on dry land there. Cleo began slowly swimming in the general direction of the location, pulling False’s body along with her. When she got to the wooden structure, two pairs of hands grabbed her arms and dragged her onto land. With the help of Stress’ flashlight and after coughing up what felt like at least ten gallons of saltwater, Cleo was able to assess False’s condition. She was only barely breathing, and she had a large wound on the back of her head as well as gashes in her face. She wouldn’t be surprised if her good arm was broken, with the position it was in. But, for now, False was alive.

Cleo looked up at Beef.

“Can you take us to Doc Mossner’s?”

\--

A slew of German curses were uttered inside of Doc’s mansion in the outskirts of Nashville. Once he opened the door and saw her drenched form standing there with an unconscious woman in her arms, though, he softened. 

“ _ Scheisse _ .” He swung the door further open and moved to let her in. Stress, in the meantime, had used her wallet to pay Beef twice what he asked, and quickly followed suit.

“Where?” Cleo asked.

“Clinic’s still in the same room,” Doc replied. “Where  _ zum Teufel  _ did you get this one? One of your girls; handsy John?” Cleo scoffed.

“If a John had caused this, I’d be arrested for murder,” she replied. “She’s a friend.” She knew he wouldn’t pry; it was why he was able to charge triple what she would be paying in a hospital emergency room, but she didn’t want to risk getting the police involved. If they did, they might figure out the link to Evil X, and until they had figured out a way to keep Xisuma and Keralis safe, she didn’t want to sacrifice them -- even if it was costing her half her savings.

_ ‘Would you do this for any other woman?’  _ a nagging voice in her head, she called it Joe Junior, asked her. She didn’t have time to think about that now. When she had deposited False on Doc’s examination table, he grunted: “Towels are in the bathroom, door on the left. Get yourself dried off; you’re dripping water all over my floor, and then take your trembling pink friend to the lounge. I need to work in peace.”

\--

By the time Doc walked out into the lounge again, the sun had risen, and Cleo had phoned Joe, who had driven over. Cleo was leaning against his chest on Doc's sofa, with Stress asleep in her lap.

"She'll be okay; it's gonna hurt like Hell though. You've got yourself a tough girl," Doc grumbled. "She's going to need penicillin injections every four hours, and stitches need to be taken out after ten days. I'm assuming you can take care of that?" When Cleo nodded, he dropped a piece of paper on the coffee table. "Prescriptions. The pharmacy on Main should have everything.." Cleo picked it up and analysed it. 

_ Penicillin G Potassium 24,000 units daily intramuscular; spread out in doses every 4 to 6 hours for 14 days. Morphine 10 mg intramuscular every 4 hours as needed. Dr. Steffen Mossner, The Dolphin Clinic. _

"Morphine for pneumonia, Doc?" Cleo wondered out loud. Doc shook his head.

"Broken arm, and a couple of bruised ribs. She took a serious beating, Nurse Armistead. Worse than anything I've seen in a while. Whoever did this to her: they wanted her dead. And they got damn close." He sighed. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get a few hours of sleep before the police get here."

"The police?" Cleo tilted her head. "Please tell me you didn't report us." Doc scoffed. 

"You know me better than that." He sighed. "No, Tugger is missing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I write a chapter, the total chapter count seems to go up. I hope you don't mind!


	5. Five: Double Indemnity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: needles/syringes

The last thing False remembered was hearing True scream at the others when Bad had thrown her into the water. The icy cold waves were too much to fight, and she knew she was slipping away. Was this really it? Had she escaped a Nazi threat during the War and fought her way from New York to Nashville just to end up another dead, battered woman in the harbour? If that was the Universe's sense of humour, she didn't find it all that funny. Just before she lost consciousness completely, she thought she saw red hair and pale skin. That had to have been a hallucination. 

\--

"False, luv?" False frowned. She wasn't ready to get up yet. "Mister Doc needs us to leave." 

"It's...just Doc," a low, gravelly voice commented. The accent sounded similar to that girl she had met at Jellie’s college, though thicker, heavier. Darker, in a sense. Groaning, she attempted to open her eyes, and found that her right eye was bandaged. Raising her hands to her face, she realised she could only move her left arm. Her right had been splinted and was wrapped tightly against her abdomen. 

"What the…" she began, but just those two whispered words felt like her chest was on fire.

"Whoa, take it easy, lady," the unknown voice told her. Looking up, she saw a man in a white coat, with a glass eye painted completely red. "You're lucky you're alive; you can't just expect to get up and go. Nurse Armistead, I hope you've got some muscle with you." Nurse... _ who _ ? 

"I carried her here; I can carry her back home," a familiar, clear voice stated from a short distance away.

"Cleo?" False asked, coughing. White-coat shook his head.

"Need I remind you that you were in the same water as your friend was?" he asked. "I ought to prescribe you the same penicillin, to prevent  _ another  _ pneumonia, but  _ someone  _ says she doesn't need anything." Cleo appeared in False's peripheral. 

"If I let you write me a week of penicillin, will you let it go?"

"Two weeks."

"Ten days, and I'll take the weekend off," she countered. 

"Deal." White-coat suddenly seemed to realise False was watching him with hesitant curiosity. "Where are my manners? Otto Mossner, but everyone calls me Doc. Yes, I'm German. No, I'm not a Nazi." False tried to chuckle, but the jostling sent her into another coughing fit. "Okay, time for you to scram."

\--

Under severe but tired protest from False, Cleo decided to take them all to her home. 

“I thought the  _ Juggernaut  _ was your home?” Stress asked in the car. She was sitting in the passenger seat next to Joe, who was driving, while Cleo had False’s head in her lap in the back seat. Cleo smiled and shook her head.

“I have a house not far from here, though, on paper, it’s Joe’s. It worked out that way.” She didn’t expand on the matter, and no-one had enough energy to ask her about it. 

\--

Cleo’s home was a colonial home south of the city centre, tucked behind some trees just off of the main road.

“I’m not here often, so it might be dusty,” she warned as she let the four of them in. “I prefer staying at the  _ Juggernaut _ ; this is my plan B in case things go south.” 

“Things go south?” Stress asked.

“In case the police decide to start enforcing the law a bit more strictly,” Cleo clarified. “Now, Joe, would you please take the prescriptions to the pharmacy? It’s just across the street from here. Ask for Cub and tell him I sent you. Take some money from the safe to pay for everything.” Nodding, Joe tipped his hat at False and Stress and took off.

“Cub?” Stress frowned. “Why do I feel like I’ve heard that name before?” Cleo smiled.

“He used to work as a journalist for the Herald; now he owns the  _ Pyramid Pharmacy _ stores. He was a very loyal customer of the  _ Juggernaut _ . He still stops by sometimes, but he’s busy, and he can’t risk getting caught and losing his clientele. I think you saw him once or twice when you were still with me.” Stress hummed in acknowledgement, recognition visible in her face. “Let’s get you horizontal,” Cleo murmured to False, who was leaning against a door frame to try and stay upright. She guided the blonde over to a sofa. The soft plush cushions seemed to dwarf her tall frame, making her appear even thinner than she already was. 

“Shall I see whether I can make us some break--” Stress began, gazing at the clock. “--Lunch?” Cleo smiled gratefully.

“Please, thank you.”

\--

When Joe returned, the pharmacist was hot on his tail.

“Cub?” Cleo asked, rising from her spot on a chair next to False to greet him. “What are you doing here?”

“You send Joe here with multiple heavy scripts in your name and expect me not to want to come see whether you’re okay?” he countered, a soft chuckle hiding behind his serious expression. “What in the world have you been up to, Cleo? Morphine?” Cleo shook her head, nodding at the sleeping blonde on the couch.

“It’s not for me. Or, well, the lower dose of penicillin is for me, but everything else is for her.”

“Who’s that?” Cub asked, kissing Stress’ cheek in greeting. 

“A...friend,” Cleo replied, mentally kicking herself for hesitating. Cub smiled knowingly. 

“Right. A friend that you care enough about to take them here.” He shook his head. “Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“Uh…” Cleo hesitated once more. 

“Anything, Cleo. You’ve saved my ass more than once, let me help you this time.” Cleo sighed, and nodded.

“Do you still have your connections at the Herald?” she asked. Cub nodded. “Then could you see if they have anything on an Exequiel?” Cub shrugged, taking a notepad out of his coat pocket and writing Evil X’s name down.

“I’ll call an old colleague tonight. Anything else? I’m heading into town this afternoon, so if you need anything from the  _ Juggernaut _ , or…” Stress suddenly suggested: “Could I come with you? I need to grab some clothing for me ‘n False. I’d ride with Joe, but he’s got to go to the  _ Vineyard _ .” Cub nodded again. 

“Yeah, of course, no problem. I’m closing the  _ Pyramid  _ in about two hours. I can pick you up here afterwards, if that works out? I’ll drive you over to wherever you need to be, and then I can also get you back here. I only need to pick something up anyway, so it won’t take long.”

Stress smiled.

“That would be perfect, thank you.”

\--

It was funny, Cleo mused, how easy it was for her to fall back into old behaviour. She had ordered all of the supplies Joe had gotten from Cub’s pharmacy into a system that made sense to her. Syringes left, gauze in the middle, bandages on the right. Filling a syringe was like riding a pointy bicycle, apparently, she thought as she tapped the glass to remove air. 

“False?” she asked, approaching the woman with three syringes in her hand. “We both need penicillin, and you need morphine.”

“I’m fine,” False muttered, but Cleo could see the sweat on her brow and the tension in her muscles. 

“You’re in pain,” she replied calmly. “They’re intramuscular, so I need either your thigh or your abdomen.” At that statement, False’s eyes went wide and her breathing became superficial. Something about her announcement had instantaneously sent her into a panic. With pneumonia looming close, Cleo needed her to calm down.

“I don’t…” False began, losing track of her sentence.

“Hey,” Cleo soothed. She knelt next to the sofa that False was still laid on. “Would it be easier if I showed you how to inject them yourself?” False seemed to want to agree, but then her face fell. 

“I…” She sighed. “I don’t have fine motor control in my left hand.” Reaching for the hem of the gown Doc had dressed her in, she pulled it up to reveal her stomach and chest. “Can you just...not say anything, please?” Cleo nodded.

“Of course.” False’s entire torso was covered in scars. Some were small and light, others were deep and showed signs of having been stitched hastily and without care. There were burn marks and wounds. Shit. “I can’t inject into scar tissue,” Cleo whispered. False took a deep, shaky breath and nodded, her eyes closed. 

“Try my thigh.” Cleo carefully pushed False’s underwear down her hips. Her upper legs were too battered as well, but her hip showed promise. Placing the heel of her hand on False’s hip, Clo pointed her thumb towards her centre and felt for her pelvic bone. She spread her index and middle fingers in a slight V shape, and inserted the needle. False inhaled sharply.

“Am I hurting you?” Cleo asked, pulling the plunger back just a bit to check for blood. No blood; she was in a good spot. False shook her head.

“I’m just not a fan of needles.” Cleo hummed in acknowledgement, injecting the dose of penicillin and retrieving the syringe. 

“Nearly done,” she commented as she helped False turn onto her other side facing away from her and inserted the morphine syringe into her other hip. Trying to lighten the mood, she offered: “If you’d like, I can teach you how to do me?” Quickly, she corrected: “As in, show you how to inject it? Then once your arm has healed, you’ll never need anyone to do it for you ever again.” False’s next response was so quiet Cleo would have missed it if her home wasn’t so incredibly quiet.

“I don’t mind having you do it,” False whispered, still facing the back of the sofa. Cleo made a noise to acknowledge her statement. 

“Then I’ll keep doing it for you,” she replied. The voice in the back of her head,  _ Joe Junior _ , muttered: ‘ _ You’re treading in very dangerous waters here, Clíodhna Maeve Armistead’.  _ As always, just like dealing with Actual Joe’s wise words, she ignored the warning. She’d deal with whatever feelings she might or might not be developing the way she always did: by drowning them in either hard liquor or some woman’s thighs. Maybe both. 

\--

False had fallen asleep again, so Cleo cursed when her phone rang. Very few people had her number at this location -- she always gave the  _ Juggernaut’s  _ when asked for an address or contact information; it was safer that way -- which could only mean one thing: bad news. She yanked the horn up to her ear with probably more force than strictly necessary, barking: “Armistead.”

“Cleo? It’s Cub. I’m at your  _ friend _ ’s address with Stress.”

“So?”

“You need to come over, with your friend. Immediately. Get a cab, put it in the  _ Pyramid’s  _ name if you have to. Just get over here.”

“What, did someone die or something?” Cleo joked.

“Something like that, yeah. There’s…” Cub sighed. “I wanted to tell you this in person, but I might as well prepare you: there’s a body. It looks like it’s been delivered to the front door.” Cleo’s heart felt like it had stopped beating. 

“Does Stress know who it is?” she asked, cursing the tremor she could hear in her own voice.

“No,” Cub replied. “But I found her wallet. She’s got an English passport, and it says her name is Tracey Symmetry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter count has gone up yet again...this is going to be a neverending fic if I keep this up! ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading; I'd love to hear your thoughts on this instalment!
> 
> Now, for a bunch of rambly notes:
> 
> \- The reason Joe owns Cleo’s home on paper, is that she refused to bring a man along to sign for it. In 1974 the Equal Credit Opportunity Act passed in the US. Until then, banks required single, widowed or divorced women to bring a man along to cosign any credit application, regardless of their income. They would also discount the value of those wages when considering how much credit to grant, by as much as 50%.
> 
> \- Cleo’s home is based on Croft House at Nashville Zoo, which is part of the museum.
> 
> \- Re Cleo’s choice of injection site for the penicillin and morphine: The dorsogluteal muscle of the buttocks was the site most commonly selected by healthcare providers for many years, and would make the most sense for her to choose given the time period. However, due to the potential for injury to the sciatic nerve, the ventrogluteal is most often used now. Because I would prefer not to encourage people to use the m. gluteus maximus (not that I hope any of you are getting your medical knowledge from fanfiction), I have chosen to have her have contemporary nursing knowledge. ;) [And yes, she could’ve just injected into False’s upper arm, but I needed a cheap excuse to get False in a vulnerable position.]
> 
> \- False’s disability is completely imaginary. I’m sure there are many different options for her to have deteriorated muscle mass and fine motor control in her wrist and hand, but I don’t have anything specific in mind.
> 
> \- I chose to make Cleo of Irish descent simply because I could. (Her surname is English, because it is my go-to surname for her when not using Morana.) Her names were chosen for their meaning: ‘shapely’ & ‘intoxicating’ & ‘lives near a hermitage’. (Why am I defending my name choices in a fandom where ‘Tango’ and ‘Bdubs’ are names? /j)


	6. Six: Kiss Me Deadly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: gun violence, mentions of blood and injuries, brief mention of psychiatric care in the 1940s.

Cleo barely witnessed the drive over to False’s apartment. She knew Cub had rushed over to the cab and paid the driver, probably at least half more than he should have, and she knew she and him had helped False out of the car. That was it.

The only thing she could see and hear and  _ feel _ was False, on her knees, on the dirty tiles of the stairwell, sobbing. 

The woman on the floor, Tracey, or  _ True _ , as Cleo was deducing from False’s heart-wrenching cries, hadn’t suffered a natural death. Cleo was no coroner, but anyone would be able to see that. There were slashes across her bare chest, and her mouth seemed to be filled with blood. On closer examination, she saw a knife still stuck in her throat. 

“Oh God.” The exclamation came from behind them. A blond man was standing in the doorway of the other apartment on False’s floor. “Shall I…” He gazed at the group of people. “Shall I run downstairs and phone the police? Or…?” He seemed hesitant. False turned to face him. She was pale, and every muscle of her body seemed to be shaking from the exertion of keeping herself upright. 

“Please, Zachary, I would appreciate that.” Before the neighbour could leave, Cleo added: “Please tell them False needs Xisuma, immediately. She stepped over to him and shook his hand. “Cleo Armistead. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but, well…” She grimaced, and Zachary mimicked her expression. 

“Zachary Sapienti, but call me Zedaph. Yes, I feel the same way. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go find a telephone.” With a nod of his head, and grabbing his hat from a shelf inside of his apartment, he quickly disappeared down the stairs, leaving Cleo and Stress standing next to an inconsolable False.

\--

“False, luv’, you need to let the coroner take her now,” Stress instructed quietly, holding out a hand to keep the man in question at bay for now. 

“I want to go with her,” False replied, still unmoving from her kneeling position next to True’s body. 

“Come,” Cleo tried. She crouched down and grabbed False’s hips, hoisting her up into a standing position. Immediately, False lost her balance, crashing into Cleo’s body. Shaking her head, Cleo threw an arm around her waist and pulled her against herself, trying to avoid her injuries while helping her stay upright. Stress nodded at the coroner.

“Go ahead, Sir.” The coroner quietly instructed the two police officers that had come to secure the scene to carry True down the stairs and onto the gurney in his van. False hid her face in Cleo’s open coat.

Xisuma had been watching the scene unfold, leaning against the far wall ever since he had arrived. When a detective came up the stairs, he greeted him quietly. 

“Do you have a place to stay that’s, well, not here?” he asked suddenly, turning towards False, Stress and Cleo. 

“Yes,” Cleo replied immediately. “Both of you, stay with me.” Addressing Xisuma, she explained: “I have a home in the southeast of the city.” Xisuma nodded.

“Good. This is Lieutenant Hypno, one of my best homicide detectives. He’ll leave no stone unturned, will you?” The detective righted his back and nodded.

“No sir. We  _ will  _ find whoever did this.” Cleo felt False take a deep, shaky breath.

“What if I know who it might be?” False looked up to be able to see Xisuma. “But you’re not going to like it.” Xisuma pressed his lips together, tilting his head in confusion. Then, he finally seemed to realise the extent of False’s injuries. Cleo could see him piece the evidence together, and his mouth opened in a silent ‘O’. 

“Maybe we should take this conversation to my office at the station?” he asked. 

“I’ll go tell Cub downstairs what’s going on,” Stress offered. The pharmacist had left them to go check on his car. She stepped closer to False to kiss both her and Cleo’s cheek, before nodding at Xisuma and Hypno and leaving the building. Cleo sighed and looked at Xisuma.

“Lead the way, Chief.” 

\--

When they got down to the street, everything was eerily quiet.

Then, all Hell broke loose. 

From every corner, men with Tommy guns seemed to appear. They pointed their weapons at the four people exiting the apartment building. The few uniforms that were still on the scene pulled their weapons, taking cover behind anything and everything. Hypno shoved Cleo and False to the ground near a police car while Xisuma covered them.

“Get down!” Hypno hissed at them. 

“You don’t want to do this!” Xisuma announced loudly to all those in the vicinity. “You hurt me, and you’re in a world of trouble.”

Someone chuckled.

“No, dear brother, you seem to be mistaken.” From God-knows-where behind them, Exequiel Void stepped onto the scene. He took a quick glance at False. “Huh. You’re harder to kill than I thought. Doesn’t matter. Hels?” A man pointed his gun at False. “Kill her.”

“No!” Cleo screamed. Without thinking, she jumped forwards, tackling Hels to the ground. He groaned with the impact. Gazing into his eyes, Cleo saw nothing but pure hatred. Fuck, what had she done? The muzzle of his Tommy gun was pressing into her stomach.

“I’m going to enjoy watching you die,” Hels hissed. She heard the shot. Blood spattered onto Cleo’s clothing and face.

Hels’ eyes went glassy, his head falling backwards with a soft thud. In the middle of his forehead, Cleo could see the wound created by Hypno’s bullet. 

“Fuck, do I have to do everything myself then?!” Evil X screamed. He retrieved a revolver from his hip. “Kill them! Kill them all!” he yelled, grunting as Xisuma immediately sprinted over and punched his jaw. Hypno took one look at Cleo and False.

“Can either of you drive?” he asked, while giving cover fire to his colleagues. 

“I can. I don’t have a license though,” Cleo replied. How she wished she still had Joe’s gun right now; she felt absolutely useless. Hypno chucked some keys her way and motioned at False. 

“That’ll have to do for now. My car’s parked in the lot around the corner. A green Lincoln EL. Get her out of here while Xisuma’s distracting the big guy. Don’t go home; get out of here, out of the city. There’s camping gear in the trunk. Just  _ go _ . I’ll cover you.” Cleo exhaled once, before nodding, and dragging False upright. The blonde had gone completely silent and pliable, letting Cleo take her away from the gunfire. Cleo quickly found the car Hypno had indicated. She laid False down in the rear of the sedan, before getting behind the wheel herself. She took a deep breath.  _ Remember what Joe taught you _ , she told herself.  _ It’s not complicated; the biggest idiots of men can do it.  _ She pulled out of the parking spot and hesitated. Where would she take False? The  _ Juggernaut _ , her home; they all seemed too risky. The guy in charge of the goons -- seeing as he had addressed Xisuma with  _ brother _ made her take the educated guess that he had to be Evil X -- had seen her. A lot of people around town knew who she was, or at least knew where she worked. She sighed, and turned south-bound. She would have to take False to the Highland Rim.

\--

False had fallen asleep halfway through the drive, the radio now offering Cleo quiet companionship as they ventured further from Nashville. It gave her time to think. 

What had she gotten herself into? Last week, she had been  _ just  _ another one of Nashville's working girls. Sure, owning a call house as a woman that offered more than just the girlfriend experience for 'gentlemen' got her a lot of scrutiny and infamy in social circles of the night, but it had never gotten her shot at and on the run. Cleo Armistead didn't risk her life for anyone, and yet here she was. Doing exactly so for a woman who might not even be attracted to her in the way that Cleo was. Ever since False had nervously followed her into Joe's office, she had been showing up in Cleo’s fantasies, the kind she only entertained under the sheets, in complete darkness with a locked bedroom door.

Glancing at the rearview mirror, she could just see False's sleeping features. There was a near-pained expression on the blonde's face. As the day had progressed, so had her injuries become more pronounced. Deep purple bruises covered her face and throat, and a particularly nasty gash on her cheekbone had swollen around Doc's neat stitches. The nurse in her knew the bruises would fade with time. The woman in her only barely managed to hide the recoil. 

Gazing at False made Cleo realise that the ampoules of penicillin and morphine were still at her home in Nashville. If she didn't find False an alternative, she was going to be in a world of pain. But where in God's name was she going to find drugs out here? Suddenly, Cleo drove past a familiar sign. She hadn't realised they were all the way out here already. It was her best shot, wasn't it? She slowed the car and made a U-turn before turning on her right signal and entering the dirt road marked  _ The Winery _ .

\--

Joe must have heard the car approach, as he stood in the doorway of the main building as Cleo drove towards him. Once he spotted her familiar red locks, he gave her a confused wave. Cleo killed the engine and pulled the handbrake before exiting the car and walking over to him, leaving False in the car for now. 

"Cleo, not that I'm not happy to see you, but what in tarnation are you doing here?" he asked, kissing her cheek in greeting. Cleo tried to give him the abridged version of everything that had transpired in the few hours of his absence. She was trembling by the time she finished her retelling. Joe took a sharp breath and said something she never thought she'd ever hear him say: 

"Well, fuck."

"So basically we need a safe, nondescript place to stay, and she needs morphine and penicillin." When Joe gave her a poignant, silent look, she begrudgingly added: "As do I." He seemed to think for a moment. 

"There's a small cabin on the edge of the grounds. Heat is supplied by a fireplace and there's a water pump nearby, but no electricity. I can phone Doc and ask him whether he knows a solution for the medication." He sighed, quietly asking: "Cleo, what are you doing?"

"Joe, I…" Cleo was fighting tears now. "Don't, please. Not right now. I can't take the self-reflection right now." Joe nodded, pulling her in for a hug. Cleo allowed herself the luxury of leaning into his embrace for a few seconds before pulling back.

"You can't drive that snazzy car all the way out to the cabin, but I'll grab the tractor and drive you over. It’ll be a bumpy ride; nothing I can do about that. You go wake the PI and I’ll meet you behind the house. I’ll try reaching Doc too.” Joe squeezed Cleo’s hand before walking back into the main building and closing the door. 

\--

The cabin was exactly as Joe had described it. He had driven False and Cleo there through the fields that surrounded the  _ Winery _ , offering quiet chatter as he did so. Doc had promised him he’d intimidate a nearby pharmacy into providing Joe with the necessary drugs as well as some lithium. ‘Just in case,’ Doc had said. Cleo hadn’t protested, not wanting to discredit Joe’s help, but she knew she was going to chuck it away the first chance she got. She wasn’t going to numb False; that wasn’t going to solve anything. Joe had given them some bread, soup, and some bottles for water, as well as two  _ Winery _ uniforms ‘in case you’d like to change’, before leaving them to go to the pharmacy.

Cleo glanced at False, who was sitting across from her at the small table, silently dipping a torn-off piece of bread into the soup. She wished she had something smart to tell False, but she didn’t, so she just ate her own soup and waited for Joe to return.

“I can’t do this,” False suddenly stated. “I can’t do this. This is too big for me. I’m a  _ fucking  _ private investigator, not an entire police force. I’m going to give Scar his money back and hand it over to Xisuma.” Cleo let her spoon drop onto the surface of the table.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I’m out, is what I mean.” False took a bite of bread, not elaborating any further.

“You’re out? You’re  _ out?! _ ” Cleo was screaming, she was aware of that, but she couldn’t stop her own reaction as she jumped up, her chair clattering onto the tiles behind her. “You’re just as involved as anyone else!  _ Everyone  _ is pulling strings here for you! Doc, Joe, Cub, Stress, Xisuma, Hypno, even your neighbour!”

“And please do tell me: when did I ever ask for them to do that, huh?!” False stood up as well, wincing with the exertion. “I never told  _ any  _ of you to help me! I never  _ wanted  _ any of you to help me!” Cleo froze.

“In case you missed it, I risked my life getting you out of there, you know,” she hissed.

“And  _ why  _ would you do that if I never asked you to?!” False countered. “Why, in God’s name, Cleo, would you ever do that?! You could just walk away!” Cleo laughed incredulously. 

“No, I can’t.” Now, it was False who seemed to freeze in place as if she’d hit an invisible wall.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” she asked. Her voice was softer now, nearly fragile.

“I couldn’t just walk away.” Cleo sighed, bending to pick up the fallen chair. False seemed to want to ask another question, but she didn’t seem to be able to get the words past her lips. Cleo knew what she was trying to say, anyway, so she replied nonetheless. “Because I’ve fallen for you.” She stared at the surface of the table. 

“...what?” False asked quietly. 

“But I know you don’t feel the same way, so I’ll keep my distance now,” Cleo stated. She began to move to clear the now-discarded dishes off of the table. When she stepped closer to False to grab her bowl, False suddenly grasped her elbow. “Wha--?” Cleo asked. False interrupted her.

“How do you know I don’t feel the same way, if you’ve never asked me?”

She wasn’t seriously insinuating what Cleo  _ thought _ she was insinuating, was she?

“Ask me,” False tried again. Cleo could feel her limbs tremble as she nodded hesitantly.

“Have you...fallen for me, False Symmetry?”

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time I broke my pattern of increasing the total chapter number by one: instead, it increased by two! This is for the very simple reason that we have a smut scene coming up. Someone requested for it to be skippable, and thus I've decided that the next time that I update this fic, I will upload said scene as a _separate_ chapter that can, indeed, be skipped. So be on the lookout for that!
> 
> (In case you were wondering _why_ the number of chapters keeps increasing: I have the final chapter completely plotted out, which means that every single time that I think I'm going to end a chapter at the start of the final chapter, and then I don't, I need another chapter. ...That didn't sound as clear as I hoped it would.)
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading until here, and for your continued support while I continue to put way-more-than-probably-necessary research and work into this small piece of fiction inspired by a bunch of blocky online characters. (Wow, putting it like that really makes it sound peculiar, doesn't it?) I truly appreciate every single one of you. 
> 
> Fun fact/random thought: I spent around five hours researching womens' rights and specifically women obtaining driving licenses throughout the first half of the twentieth century, and realised that, while I knew very little about that in general, I knew even _less_ about women of colour's history in that regard. Basically, this is me saying: if you, like me, turn out not to know as much about _all_ sides of history as you may have thought the educational system taught you, go look something up! I promise you'll learn something cool!
> 
> X Belle

**Author's Note:**

> \- This was inspired by, among others: The Big Sleep (1946), The Blue Butterfly (2012), Hitman 2’s New York mission, Hitman 3's Chongqing mission, Mafia II, Hidden Agenda, LA Noire, Cyberpunk2077 and Embassy (1998).  
> 


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